Michigan Vamp

My Old License Plate

Eccentric Night Owl

Quote from Blood Read

"An ambiguously coded figure, a source of both erotic anxiety and corrupt desire, the literary vampire is one of the most powerful archetypes bequeathed to us from the imagination of the nineteenth century."~ page 2 introduction to Blood Read: The Vampire as Metaphor in Contemporary Culture

Intellectual Vampire Quote

"If the vampire is an other, he or she was always a figure in whom one could find one's self...the despicable as well as the defiant, the shameful as well as the unashamed, the loathing of oddness as well as pride in it."~ Richard Dyer

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Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Not to the story. But I spent some time with family in
Colorado and Spain, and enjoyed both. Plus I promised my Prima my next story
would have some Spain in it, and I don’t like to break promises.

Did you always want to be a writer? If not what did you want
to be?

Yes. No. Well…sort of. I was always coming up with stories,
and I found the love of writing at about age 12, but at different ages, if you
asked me what I wanted to be, the answers ranged from a gymnast, a vet, an
show-circuit equestrian, a scientist, owner of a rescue…And of course, Han Solo
and Batman. But my brother ran off with the Batman suit, and I can’t seem to
find a Wookie co-pilot, so…

When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?

Even though I had been writing since a young age, I didn’t
really consider myself a ‘writer’ until I began seriously working on my first
book, Olyvia. I didn’t consider myself an ‘author’ until after I published my
second book, Jules.

How long did it take to get your first book published?

Well, let’s see…My first draft was completed in 2011 and I
published last year in 2015. So my first book took around five years to
complete. I think it would have been done sooner if I had taken computer
backups more seriously and saved my work in at least two different locations
like an online sharing site and a USB drive…But still. Five years.

What were your goals as an author and have any of them come
true?

I try to keep my goals simple to start out with. So far my
goals have been to get published, have fun, and write things that people will
enjoy reading. I believe I’ve met all of them to this point.

What genres do you normally write in?

Fantasy. I mean, they’re all subsets…Paranormal, Urban
Fantasy, and Dark Fantasy up to this point. But still all Fantasy.

What was the craziest thing you’ve ever done when it came to
a storyline in your book?

Well, once I cracked the universe and developed a
multi-verse as the backlash which then had a war carry across the different
dimensions that was only settled after my characters from the various
dimensions finally got to common ground, fought back, and then essentially
contacted an almighty force that reset everything by destroying every dimension
except one. But that book is probably never going to get published, so.

Jules: The 2nd Adventure

Kaelia Stevens

Genre: Magical Realism

Date of Publication: December18, 2015

ISBN:1519697090

ASIN:B019KYLOJC

Word Count: 26,489

Cover Artist: Ryan Bayron

Book Description:

War. It doesn’t start with armies or bombs. It doesn’t start with declarations or protests. It doesn’t start with speeches. It starts with one thing. Intent.

Jules understands this concept. She intends to kill a cult leader. She intends to undo magic from the past. She intends to get her family home.

When I transported myself back to the smithy, I could almost smell
the magic floating around the building. It was a magic I knew very well.
Teleportation magic.

Rod was back.

Hopefully the other two were still with him.

I thought it'd be more fun to wait and see what came up from the
forge, so I walked into the lobby and slipped behind the counter. I fished
around for Jake's supply of pre-packaged food and water, pulling it out from
the decrepit shelves hidden underneath.

I didn't need it, but I was sure the ones downstairs would
appreciate it. I only grabbed a few bottles and a handful of packaged snacks
and set them on the counter, hopped up onto the countertop, and swung to face
the trapdoor at the other end of the room.

The Wolf alpha's mate was the first one to emerge.

Coming up from the trapdoor, her eyes caught sight of me and she
was immediately suspicious, narrowing her eyes and lifting her lip in a slight
snarl. She came up the stairs and around the counter, her head lowered and her
chin jutted forward in an aggressive stance as her lip curled more and more.
Her body was tense, her arms held just back enough that her fingers were
brushing the tops of her weapons. She stared me down like a feral dog and words
rumbled out from her chest. "What are you doing here, witch?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh knock it off, dear," I chided.
"You and I both know you don't have the energy for this fight." I
held up a bottle of water and a bag of jerky. "Have fun going after
Afanasiy?"

"How did—"

"I know what my father wanted to show Layla. I know you hate
Afanasiy. Wolves tend to hunt what they hate, even if the kill doesn't come
right away. I know you'd lead her to him and try to take him on.” I dropped the
water and jerky down in front of me as I leaned forward. “So. Kill him
yet?"

She glanced at my hand and then back at my face. One of her hands
lowered away from the weapons.

"I did what had to be done," she said, snatching the
water away in a quick jerk. "Got a few shots in. Gave him the warning he
deserved." She tore the top off and took a long drink, draining the bottle
in one go. She tossed it to the side and I slid off the counter, stepping away
to reveal more. I backed up to the windowsill and rested against it as she eyed
the food.

"Still," I said, "it's impressive, coming from one
such as you."

She shot me a look as she went for another bottle. "One such
as me?"

"A woman who’s not even an Alpha manages to hunt down and
confront the phantom who burned down her Pack's hierarchy in one blow.” I
smiled as she studied me, evaluating my words. "It's impressive."

"Impressive or not," she answered, "it's what I did.
Now"—she leaned back against the counter a little, her body only slightly
relaxing—"answer my question. What are you doing here?"

I rolled my eyes again as I let out a sighing laugh. "I told
you when you first came here, Wolf."

I tipped my head in acknowledgment. "Olyvia, then. And I
didn't lie. Jake left me in charge of his smithy while he was gone."

In an effort to get that skeptical look off her face, I pulled out
a ring of keys and jingled them. She stared for a moment with an intense look
on her face, but her body relaxed more.

She didn't need to know these were old keys to a vault that didn't
exist anymore.

"Just because he didn't take care of it while he was here
doesn't automatically mean that I'm a liar," I said. "It means he's a
bad homeowner."

I managed to get a muffled, shoulder-shuffle laugh. Good. She was
still tense, but I was starting to think that was just how her face looked.

Her pet thief came up the stairs and froze when he saw me. His face
hardened. He looked to Olyvia, who gave a small shake of her head and a cutting
motion with her hand, waving his tension away.

He looked back at me. I flashed him a teasing smile that made his
lip twitch before he ignored me.

Olyvia tossed him a bottle of water. He caught it and asked,
"Plan?"

She considered. "Run like little girls?"

"That's my line," he said, taking a swig of water.
"Besides, I recall someone telling me that tucking tail only gets you
killed."

"That was before I was explicitly told that I managed the
impossible," she said, motioning to me.

I smiled. "Not the impossible, dear. Just the
improbable."

"Semantics make my head hurt,” Rod sighed. He placed his
bottle on the counter and made for the door. "If there's not an immediate
plan to run, I suggest a strong defense. Jake's got a number of magical wards
around the place. I bet I can activate them. Or reactivate them,
actually."

"And here I thought you only had one response to
trouble," Olyvia said with a smirk.

"I guess I'm just full of
surprises," he remarked, going out the door and closing it behind him.

About the Author:

A half-Hawaiian, half-Spanish, half-Italian, half-Filipino, K. Stevens is 4'6" of sarcasm and introverted weirdness. She enjoys time spent communing with local flora and fauna. She hopes to one day be considered one of the greats in literature, but will settle for people at least knowing her name.